Hallowing Death
by Firisu
Summary: A series of one-shots in which Yoite finds different ways to attempt suicide. Successes, failures, and those outcomes which are undefined. Chapters alternate between angst, humour, angst, humour, etc. Updated at random.
1. The Box of Death

**A/N (03/06/09): Okay, I'm turning this one-shot into my collection of Yoite/Miharu short stories. All of them shall involve Yoite having a close encounter with death in one way or another. Some of them may be light and random, while others will be dark and depressing - it all depends on what mood I'm in. And just to make things clear, I don't actually want Yoite to die. I love him. He's probably one of my favourite anime characters ever. It's just fun playing around with ideas of his death.**

**

* * *

**

A/N (18/05/09): Last week, my entire year-level at school – and across the state – had this thing called NAPLAN testing – a series of really easy tests designed by the government. For the 'writing' portion of the exam, we were given a picture of a box and told to write a story about it. And so this is what I came up with (obviously I can't remember what I did word-for-word but I think this is pretty close).

* * *

**The Box of Death**

It came in the mail that morning.

"Perfect," he said.

The box itself was nothing special. What was inside it though literally meant life or death for him.

Yoite let his gloved fingers lightly trace over the silver object, making sure it was really there. Then, as carefully as if it were made from glass, he lifted it from the box.

"So beautiful," he again muttered to himself.

The light from the window reflected off the shiny metal. The look and feel of it seemed too good to be true. He thought about what a shame it was that he would only be using it once.

"Guns are guns after all," he reasoned. "They are designed for one purpose and one purpose only: to kill."

He raised his hand and pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple.

His finger started to push on the trigger but, for some reason he couldn't fathom, stopped midway.

He tried again but his finger wouldn't move any further.

It confused him. Why couldn't he shoot? He wasn't afraid – that much he knew. This wasn't something he'd decided to do on a whim; he'd chosen this path long ago.

"No, it's not fear," he told himself and, as he said the words, he knew it was the truth.

So if it wasn't fear, then it must've been regret.

Yes, that was it. There was still something binding him to this world. And he needed to take care of it before he could move on.

It was that boy; he was the only one who could cause Yoite's resolve to waver like this. Yoite knew that by doing this, he was taking the easy way out and abandoning Miharu in the process. He had thought about this of course, but at the time, he'd believed it would be easy enough to ignore.

Now, however, he couldn't bring himself to leave without giving the boy some kind of closure.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a cell phone and dialed the number.

"Hello?" answered the familiar apathetic tone.

Deep inside, it hurt Yoite to hear him speak, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear that voice again.

He wanted to explain. He wanted to apologize. But nothing he said could excuse what he was planning to do. So, instead, he simply muttered, "Goodbye."

"Huh? What–" Miharu couldn't finish his question before Yoite let the phone fall to the floor and shatter into countless little pieces.

"You don't need to be involved with me anymore, Miharu," he muttered.

It was then that, with no more regrets, Yoite again pressed the cold metal of the weapon to the side of his head. "I guess this is the end."

"WAIT!"

The apartment door burst open.

Yoite's eyes widened in horror. "Miharu… how did you…"

Before he realized what was happening, he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his waist. The gun had somehow fallen out of his hand and there it lay, forgotten on the floor.

"Yoite…" Miharu sobbed, burying his face into Yoite's shoulder. "Don't die."

"Miharu…" Yoite couldn't promise anything because he knew it would be a lie. So, for the time being, he just let his arms hold on desperately to the last shred of hope left in his pitiful life. "Don't worry; I'm still here."

* * *

**A/N: The story I wrote during the exam was actually in first person from Yoite's perspective. And it had a more abrupt ending because I ran out of time. When I told my friend about it, she didn't like it very much. You'll see why.**

**Here is the original ending:**

I wanted to explain. I wanted to apologize. But nothing I said could excuse what I was planning to do. So, instead, I simply muttered, "Goodbye." And at the same time, I willed my free hand to press down on the trigger.

The phone and the gun fell to the ground in the next second, sinking into a pool of blood.

* * *

**A/N: So… which ending was better? I'd like to know what you think.**


	2. To Die of Boredom

**A/N: This was originally a ****random piece of humour I began writing when I tried imagining Yoite going to high school. But then I remembered I suck at writing humour. The 'random' aspect is still retained here though.**

* * *

**To Die of Boredom**

The classroom door slid open and in walked a tall, slight boy sporting a black coat and tan hat. He walked past everyone's gaping faces and took his place in the fourth seat from the back by the window – the seat in front of Miharu. The students – with the exception of 'master of apathy' Miharu – all turned to stare at their new classmate's strange attire. The boy simply ignored the attention by resting his face in his palm and gazing absently out the open window.

Thobari, standing at the head of the classroom in front of the blackboard, wasn't too happy with his newest pupil. But he tried not to let it show. He was going to go through with this as cooperatively as he could – for Miharu's sake. "Class, we have a new student today. Please make him feel welcome."

"Yes, Mr. Kumohira."

Thobari turned to the boy staring out at the clear blue sky. "Would you like to tell us your name?"

"Yoite," he replied coldly without looking away from the window.

"Welcome to our school, Yoite. Now, since we're in class, would you mind taking off your hat?"

"I'd rather not," he answered nonchalantly, still staring outside.

"Please," Thobari said again, trying to keep his temper under control. "It is a school rule not to wear hats inside."

Yoite finally faced Thobari and began to raise his finger. "I don't care."

"Don't do it, Yoite!" Miharu warned. "You can't use Kira here!"

Yoite was too busy to hear his friend's protests. He pointed his index finger directly at Thobari and started twisting the teacher's insides with his life force.

"Ugh," Thobari grunted in pain, clutching his chest with his hands.

The class began to panic; none of them knew what was going on. From their perspective, it looked like their teacher was having ten simultaneous heart attacks.

"Yoite, stop it!" Miharu hissed at his friend. "Don't make a scene here. You can kill him all you want _after_ school."

Yoite put down his finger and Thobari collapsed onto his desk, gasping for breath.

The class looked on in shock. "Uh, Mr. Kumohira, are you okay?"

"I'm… fine," Thobari said shakily, still in no condition to teach. "Just… let me… rest for a minute."

* * *

They met on the outer edges of the school during lunch – by the shade of a large oak tree.

"Yoite," Miharu advised sternly, "I'm telling you; stop trying to kill and torture every teacher who tells you to take off your hat."

Yoite gazed into the sky, away from Miharu's eyes. "I don't like being told what to do."

"Look, everyone else here gets annoyed at the teachers, too, but they don't have the option to dislocate anyone's arm at will."

Yoite sat down with his back to the tree, wrapping his arms around his legs. "I'm sorry."

Miharu sighed. "I don't want you to apologise. At least you're not trying to kill _yourself_ for now." And so, he, too, sat with his arms around his knees, leaning against the other side of the thick tree trunk, mimicking a mirror image of Yoite.

* * *

The last chime of the school bell rang just as Miharu and Yoite took their seats back in the classroom.

"Now, class, please quieten down. I'll be continuing to teach you about simultaneous equations today."

Just like in all his other classes that day, Yoite rested his chin in his palm and looked out the window. Nothing that the teachers said was ever interesting to him. He briefly wondered if it was physically possible to die of boredom.

"You see, most pairs of linear equations will intercept sooner or later. The exception is when two equations have the same gradient."

"What does that mean, Mr. Kumohira?" a student inquired.

"It means the two lines are travelling at exactly the same pace. But since their starting points are different, they'll never meet."

"So if one of them decides to head in a different direction, will their paths cross then?"

Thobari scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh, I guess so. But we're talking about maths here. It's not a place where miracles occur."

"Too bad; I don't like the idea of two lines that can never meet. It's depressing."

"Well, yes, I suppose it is. Anyhow, we should get back to the lesson. Like I was saying, if two straight lines both have a gradient of two, for example, it would look like this…"

It seemed like the maths class was dragging on forever. Yoite couldn't stand it. He refused to simply sit there any longer. He picked up the pen sitting idly at the edge of his desk and held it just outside the window. Making it look like a careless accident, he dropped it.

The pen fell from the second-floor window and landed inaudibly on the ground outside.

Yoite faked a surprised expression on his face and raised his hand. "Sir, I dropped my pen. May I go retrieve it?"

Thobari sighed, not even turning away from the graphs he was sketching on the blackboard. "Be quick."

"Certainly." Quietly getting up from his seat, Yoite lifted his right leg onto the windowsill and held onto the window frame. After making sure he could keep his balance, he placed his other foot up on the ledge, too.

Miharu's eyes widened when he realised what was happening. "Yoite! What are you doing?"

"My 'escape from class' technique," he answered before letting his body fall forward out the window.

"Yoite!" Miharu bent over his desk and desperately reached out his hand. He managed to grab the tip of Yoite's black coat before it disappeared from within his grasp.

Everyone else in the classroom had witnessed the scene unfold before them but they had been too incredulous to move a muscle.

Miharu closed his eyes in denial and waited to hear Yoite's body hit the ground. When he didn't hear anything, he dared to lean over and looked down from his window.

Sure enough, Yoite was still alive, lying on the soft mattress that the PE students were setting up for high jump.

A smile lit up Miharu's normally emotionless face. "Looks like the path you chose doesn't lead to death."

* * *

The next morning, Miharu went to Yoite's apartment to walk with him to school again. When he got there, however, he found his friend lying in bed – not asleep, but it didn't look like he was planning to get up any time soon either.

Yoite turned his head slightly when he heard Miharu enter his room. "I can't go today. I feel sick."


	3. Like A Parasite

**A/N: Well, my class was in a computer room for English yesterday. We had a substitute teacher and I was bored of the advertising task we were doing so I worked on this. Because, you know, angst is just so fun to write, unlike humour (damn humour; it's... so... hard... to... write).**

**

* * *

**

**Like A Parasite**

Snowflakes fell all around him as he ran. The trees, the gravel, the flowers – they were all blanketed by a thin layer of fresh snow.

Yoite wasn't heading anywhere in particular; just running – running away from life. It was a strange and unnerving feeling; being pulled away from somewhere by your own emotions but not having anywhere to go. He had gotten accustomed to escaping – being forced to leave by the hands of others – but having the choice to leave was a different story. It meant he was responsible for his decision; he wouldn't be able to blame the outcome on anyone but himself.

He tried not to regret. But the thoughts entered his head regardless. He was leaving his friends behind without even a goodbye. They were the people that cared most for him – and, in some cases, the ones he cared for, too. Even so, he couldn't stay with them anymore. He felt like a parasite, sucking the life out of everyone around him. No matter how hard they tried, nobody could ever detach him from this life of solitude and self-hatred. In the end, they, too, would end up stuck in his web of life-threatening predicaments and become unable to let go.

Nobody should care for him – that is what he believed. As far as he knew, he wasn't deserving of anybody's kindness. He never gave it himself. Nor did he want to receive it from anyone. He knew he wouldn't be around for much longer anyway. Forming attachments now would only cause great grief when his time came.

Yoite's movements became sluggish as he trudged through the snow that had gathered deep on the forest floor. But he couldn't stop. If he did, he was afraid he would give in to the temptation of turning back. So he continued moving through the frigid woodland. He couldn't see an end beyond the trees; there was simply white – pure and untouched. It was much too clean to suit his tastes; he didn't feel like he belonged here. But then again, he didn't feel like he belonged anywhere, no matter how hard anyone else tried to convince him otherwise. Everywhere he went, he would only bring pain and misery to those who tried to reach out to him.

After coming to a small clearing in the trees, his legs finally gave out and he collapsed onto the soft layers of snow that lay before him. He turned his head to the side so air could still enter his decayed lungs, if only for a few seconds more. When he did, he saw a slight shadow walking towards him from within the gathering of trees. He couldn't see it very well – his senses had already deteriorated to the point of breakdown – but he could never mistake the shape and size of that outline; he knew who it was. But whether it was real or an illusion, he didn't care to find out. This way, he could at least smile as he took his last breath.

* * *

Miharu approached the slender body in the snow. "Yoite…" He knelt down, gently stroking his fallen companion's cheek and shivering at the feel of icy skin beneath his fingers. "You should have known I would follow you out here. Did you really think I would give up on you that easily?"

He didn't get an answer.


	4. Misunderstanding

**A/N: This chapter**** is based on my very strange experience today (I've been laughing about it ever since). Remember the first story in this one-shot collection—the one I did as my test essay? Well, for the purposes of this chapter, let's just pretend Miharu wrote something like that on his exams. Keep in mind that this actually happened to me—well, most of it anyway. I didn't really put much effort into writing this so I'm sorry if it sucks.**

* * *

**Misunderstanding**

Miharu walked calmly down the school hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoing inside the near-empty floor of staff rooms and offices. He was heading towards the Student Services Centre with dread in his stomach. He would never let it show on his face, but he was panicking. He got good grades and was a good student—it seemed that way in the eyes of his teachers, at least—so what could he possibly be called in for?

_Please inform ROKUJOU MIHARU that s/he has an appointment at the Student Services Centre on Tuesday at 10:20._

He reflexively crushed that note in his hand, anxiety gradually taking control of his senses.

_Here goes nothing_, he thought as he tentatively knocked on the school counsellor's office door.

"Come on in," a tender female voice called out.

Miharu entered the small room and softly closed the door behind him. He walked up to the woman and unfolded the crumbled note in his hands to show her. "I was told that I have an appointment today."

She took a quick glance at the sheet of paper and a look of realization crossed her face. "Ah, Rokujou Miharu, thank you for coming. Please sit down. And don't worry, you're not in trouble."

That was a relief. Miharu's tense shoulders relaxed somewhat and he took a seat in one of the two single sofas opposite the counsellor's desk.

"Now, do you remember that story you wrote for last month's exams?"

Then it dawned on him. It all made sense.

Of course he remembered that story. It had been quite a risky topic to write about. But he had felt the need to express his concerns into words.

The woman continued, "It's just a government policy that all stories containing strong themes such as death, murder and suicide are followed up on. We need to make sure that you are not thinking about hurting yourself or taking actions like those mentioned in your essay."

He wanted to laugh. What an amusing situation this had turned out to be. "Oh, no, it isn't like that at all. You see, I wrote this story about a friend of mine."

"A friend?"

"Yes. There was a time when he didn't want to live anymore; he just wanted to give up on life. It hurt to see him like that. And this was simply a way for me to vent those feelings."

"And what about now? Is he still like that?"

"No, not anymore. Of course there will be times when he feels like it's all a bit too much to handle. Don't we all have moments like that? Those times are hard, but I think it's gotten better, much better."

She nodded in relief. "I see. That's good to hear."

"Trust me, everything's okay now."

"I believe you," she insisted. "I'm sorry for making you come here, but, like I said, it's a policy. And just so you know, I read your story, and might I say that it is quite a powerful piece."

Miharu nodded understandingly, thankful that this hadn't been at all as bad as he'd expected.

"Just one more thing before you leave. If your friend is ever feeling down or miserable, tell him I'm always available here in my office."

"Thank you, but I doubt that will be necessary."

"So he hasn't had any suicidal thoughts recently?"

Just before Miharu could answer, the telephone in the room started ringing.

The woman picked it up and answered, "Hello... Oh, okay." She covered the speaker with her palm and told Miharu, "It's Mr. Kumohira. He wants to talk to you."

Miharu walked over to the phone, curiously wondering what his teacher and mentor wanted at a time like this. "Hello?"

"Rokujou!" called Thobari's frantic voice from the other end of the line. "Get here right now! It's Yoite! He's jumped off the roof!"

Without needing to hear any more, Miharu hung up the phone and turned back to the counselor. "I'll have to get back to you on that last question."

With that, he hurried out of the office to help Yoite out once again.

* * *

**A/N: Obviously I ****changed a few things to make this seem more like fan fiction and not just a boring journal entry. In actuality, I spent a lot more time (about ten minutes) in that office explaining to the counselor where the ideas for my story came from and how I'm not suicidal and that I'll ask for help if I ever feel depressed, and so on.**


	5. Unanswered Questions

**A/N: Wow, shortest chapter I've ever written. I was planning on putting more into it but I _think_ I have writer's block (sometimes it's hard for me to tell the difference between writer's block and me just being plain lazy).**

**

* * *

**

**Unanswer****ed Questions**

The school roof looked over their small, peaceful town. Standing at the edge of it was like standing at the edge of life. It was here that the boy stood.

The breeze blew past, throwing strands of black hair into his face. But he remained still. He was solemn as he contemplated his last moments.

Watching over every speck of town like this, Yoite felt more insignificant than ever.

He was merely one person amidst millions of others. Among those, how many lives had he affected? How many relations had he made? How many would remember him after he left this world?

His death surely would not impact on anyone.

If he were to jump, would anything change? Would anyone cry for him? Would the world stop turning?

Only one way to find out.

Thus he took a leap of faith.


	6. The Mentos Theory

**A/N: Several months ago, I asked my friends for help with this story, a.k.a. a list of suicide ideas. They seemed quite keen on this one, though I had my doubts about it. You can judge for yourself.**

* * *

**The Mentos Theory**

"Is something supposed to happen?"

"Just wait."

A pause.

"Yoite?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this another one of your suicide attempts?"

"Perhaps."

"It doesn't seem to be working."

Another pause.

"You're right."

With that, Yoite tossed the empty Coke can and Mentos wrapper into the nearest rubbish bin and began walking down the sidewalk, back home. Miharu quickly followed suit.

"What did you think was going to happen?" he asked.

"Yukimi told me about this theory once," Yoite explained. "He said that if you drink a Coke and eat a Mentos at the same time, you'll explode—or something like that."

"Uh-huh…" Miharu was a little stumped for words. "I think he was joking."

"Oh." Yoite shrugged his shoulders. "Worth a try, right?"


	7. As If Nothing Is Wrong

**A/N: Oh, God, it's been almost six months since I wrote this one. I was going to add more to it but it just kinda slipped my mind and now I can't be bothered.**

* * *

**As If Nothing Is Wrong**

"Where are you going?"

Yoite didn't utter a thing in response, his back facing the young boy. Miharu sighed, tired but patient. "Be back soon, okay?" he said, as if Yoite was just making a simple trip to the market. _I'll be waiting for you._

Again, Yoite was silent as he took a step away from the house. And so, Miharu solemnly watched his best friend walk away, not knowing whether he would ever see him alive again.

* * *

Miharu cooked dinner that night.

There hadn't been much for him to do that day except run a few errands for his grandmother and do some work around the shop, so he had begun preparations for the evening meal earlier than usual and laboured over it for the next several hours. Arranging two plates and laying both dishes out on the table, he was ready to eat. There was just one thing missing.

He was leisurely taking off his green apron when he heard the front door open. "Welcome back," he greeted without turning to face the visitor—he didn't need to look to see who it was. "Dinner's on the table. Help yourself; I'll be there in a moment."

Yoite didn't argue; didn't question. He simply took a seat and began to eat.

It was as if nothing had happened that day. Just an ordinary day.

And they were both happy to leave it that way.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter will be what Yoite was doing during the middle of this chapter, featuring Raikou and his awesome driving skills. I would've put the two together but I wanted to keep my pattern of a chapter of angst, then humour, then angst, etc. So please bear with me, my short chapters and my slow updates.**


	8. Gunning For A Ride

**A/N: Raikou is awesome. I love that part at the end of episode 12 where he told Yukimi that he was fine to drive, and then lo and behold, five seconds later, he had landed them all in a river. And that's how he managed to get a guest appearance in this chapter.**

**

* * *

**

**Gunning For A Ride**

"Raikou."

"Oh, Yoite. Is there something you need?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you could give me a lift somewhere."

"Ah, you want me to drive?" He sounded happy to be of service. "I'd love to. Where do you need to go?"

Yoite cited the address of an infamous gun shop in the next town.

"Huh? Are you serious?" Raikou asked, incredulity coating his voice.

Yoite nodded.

Raikou worried his lower lip as he considered the request. "Well, I guess that should be fine. It's a little out of the way, but if we leave right now, we should be able to make it back by nightfall."

"Thanks."

* * *

"Which way?"

"Left."

_Swerve_.

"That was a right."

"My bad. I'll just make a U-turn here."

_Bump._

"Oops. Didn't see that speed bump there."

"That was a dog."

"Oh, no, not again."

"I think it was already dead."

"Oh, good."

_Bump._

"But that one wasn't."

"Oh, bugger."

* * *

"Well, wasn't that fun?" Raikou was, of course, unfazed by the day's misfortunes.

Yoite, as usual, didn't say anything.

"So, it looks like we're here."

"Yeah. Thanks for the ride." Yoite opened the side door and stepped out of the car.

"Sure thing," Raikou replied casually. Then he turned to Yoite and saw the shop behind him. "Hey, wait. This is—" His expression became one of horror. "Yoite, you…"

"I'm buying Yukimi a birthday present," Yoite lied. "He's been wanting a new gun for a while now." That part could have been true.

"Oh, I see." Raikou sighed in relief. "Take your time, then. I'll be waiting right here."

Yoite stepped towards the store, hearing Raikou in the car mumble something along the lines of "Oh, shoot, don't tell me it's his birthday again already… I better get him something or he'll think I forgot again…"

Yoite left him to it, and went on with his own business.

An old-fashioned bell was sounded as he entered the compact shop. "Well, good afternoon, young man," the elderly shopkeeper greeted in a deep voice. "What can I do for you today?"

Yoite let his eyes wander over the displays of pistols and rifles and various other weapons of mediocre destruction. He ended up pointing to a gun he didn't recognise the type of but thought looked nice.

The man followed the gesture and saw the would-be purchase. "Ah, good choice, sir," he remarked as he took the weapon down from the wall. "I see you have an eye for detail."

Yoite didn't need to mention it wasn't his first time buying a gun. "How much?"

The man lowered a brow and asked, "How much you got?"

Yoite took his wallet out from his pocket.

Damn. It was empty. He'd forgotten that he'd spent all his money buying that first gun off eBay. Maybe he shouldn't have put in such a high bid so early on. He told the man, "On second thought, never mind," then turned his back and walked away.

He heard the shopkeeper calling after him, desperate not to let a prospective customer get away. "Wait, young man! I'm sure we could work something out! I'm willing to…"

The door swung shut behind him then, drowning out the man's attempts at bargaining, so he was left to step back into the car in peace.

"Back so soon?" Raikou enquired.

"I think I'll get Yukimi something else."

Raikou took the answer without a second thought. And so, they began the long drive back to where they had begun—speed bumps and all.

Yoite sighed.

Today had been a two-part plan. The first part had involved Raikou's super driving technique; the second had involved getting a gun and, well, it's pretty self-explanatory from there. He figured he was going to have to add a third part to that plan now: going home.

* * *

_**Omake~**_

"Yukimi!"

"Huh? Raikou? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing! I just wanted to give you this."

"You're giving me a bag of lemons? Wow, I… I don't know what to say…"

"Yep, they're all yours. Happy Birthday."

"Um, thanks, but it's not my birthday for another ten months."

"Oh…"

Raikou laughed nervously and excused himself from the room, scratching his head in puzzlement. "Huh. I guess Yoite just likes to get a head start on shopping for birthday presents."


End file.
